Showing posts with label Sci-Fi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sci-Fi. Show all posts

Monday, March 4, 2024

Doomsday Warrior #18: American Dream Machine


Doomsday Warrior #18: American Dream Machine, by Ryder Stacy
July, 1990  Zebra Books

What can I say about this penultimate volume of Doomsday Warrior? That it’s incredibly stupid? That it’s the worst volume of the series yet? That it’s a sort-of rip off of Total Recall with a little Dune thrown in? That Ryder Syvertsen has clearly stuck a fork in the series and has entirely lost all interest in it? No matter what I say, I won’t be able to properly convey how ultimately terrible American Dream Machine really is. 

Well, one positive thing I can say is that it doesn’t rip off the previous volume, which itself was a ripoff of the volume before that. For this one, Syvertsen goes way back to the tenth volume to rip himself off; for, just as that tenth volume was an “imaginary story” that had no bearing on the overarching storyline, so too is American Dream Machine an “imaginary story” that, for the most part, has nothing whatsoever to do with Doomsday Warrior. This volume also has the first real appearance of Kim Langford in the series since…well, since that imaginary story in #10: American Nightmare, I think, with the additional similarity that the “Kim” who shows up in American Dream Machine is also an imaginary figure, same as she was in that earlier “imaginary story.” 

Turns out I was correct when I guessed that there’d be no pickup from the closing events of the previous volume, which as we’ll recall ended with Rockson and his team still not having reached a neighboring city, where they hoped to gather resources needed to rebuild a ravaged Century City. There was also some stuff about a bunch of new recruits Rockson had to train. Absolutely none of that is even mentioned here. When we meet Rockson, he’s flying a commandeered “Sov” fighter jet, soaring west to meet up with pal Archer, whom Rockson hasn’t seen “in three years.” 

Yes, friends, three years have passed since the previous volume; it’s now “around 2096,” we’re told (Syvertsen has also thrown in the towel on pinning down when exactly the books take place), and boy it turns out a whole bunch of stuff has happened since last time. For one, the US and the USSR has entered a truce, with all occupying Soviet forces having withdrawn from the United States(!), though we’re informed that there are still guerrilla bands of Russian fighters out there who haven’t gotten the message. Chief among them would be Killov, who we are told without question is still alive (though he doesn’t appear this time), and also Zhabnov, onetime ruler of Moscow who hasn’t been seen for several volumes; both men have a mad-on hatred for Rockson and are determined to kill him. 

Not only that, but we’re told that President Langford is now the official, uh, President of the reformed US, but he’s so old and frail he’s in a wheelchair now…and gee, the reader must only assume it’s due to fallout from the brainwashing torture he endured back in #16: American Overthrow, a subplot Syvertsen never did follow up on. Also, we’re told that Kim, Langford’s hotstuff daughter, is in the reformed DC with her dad, where she plans parties and stuff – and Rockson figures he’ll “never see her again.” As for Rockson’s other “true love,” Amazonian redhead Rona, she too is out of the picture, off in some other liberated city. We also get the random note that Detroit, the black member of the Rock Squad, has been assigned by Langford to be the Ambassador to Russia, and given that Premiere Vassily is now so old and incompetent, the USSR is actually being run by his Ethiopian servant, Rahallah (who also doesn’t appear – we’re just told all this stuff). So, Rockson muses as he flies along in his fighter jet, the world is essentially run by two black men: Detroit and Rahallah. 

But man, all this is well established at the point that this story begins…it’s news to us readers, but it’s been Rockson’s world for the past three years. Indeed, things are so slow now that mountain man Archer plain left Century City three years ago, bored with the lack of fighting…and Rockson just heard from him for the first time, having received an urgent fax from Archer that Archer needs help! So there are a lot of problems here already…I mean, Archer has ever and always been an idiot, his bumbling stupidity a constant joke in the series. How the hell did this dude learn how to send a fax? And for that matter, since when did he even know how to write? 

Beyond that, though…I mean Rockson receives this urgent “Help!” message, and just all by himself hops in this “Sov” fighter and heads for Archer’s remote destination. No backup, no “new Rock Team” (we also learn Russian guy Sherasnksy has gone back to Russia…but Chen and McLaughlin are still in Century City, at least), just Rockson going solo for no other reason than plot convenience. And even here we get the series mandatory “man against nature” stuff, with Rockson crash landing in rough terrain and then having to escape a giant mutant spider…just “yawn” type stuff after 18 volumes of it. 

The entire concept of Archer having been gone for three years isn’t much followed up on; Rockson and the big mountain man are soon drinking beer and shooting the shit in the bowling alley Archer now calls home(!). There’s also a new character to the series – the absurdly-named Zydeco Realness, an elfin “Techno-survivor,” ie yet another new mutant race, this one having survived the past century in silos, hence their small nature and weird manner of speaking. Also, Ryder Syvertsen has discovered the word “diss,” which mustv’e come into the parlance around this time (I probably learned the word from the Beastie Boys at the time); Zydeco’s people are obsessed with being “dissed,” and will take affront if they even think they are being dissed. Rockson has never heard the word before, and Syvertsen has it that it’s a word the Tecno-survivors have created themselves. 

The titular “Dream Machine” is a device the Techno-survivors have created for people who are about to die…sort of like that bit in Soylent Green where you could have like a sensory experience on your way through the out door. So off the trio go, riding over 50 miles of rough terrain – but wait, I forgot! Rockson actually gets laid…indeed, quite a bit in this novel. But again demonstrating the marked difference between this and the earliest volumes, all the sex is off-page…well, most of it. The few tidbits we get here and there are so vague as to be laughable when compared to the juicy descriptions found many volumes ago. But Rockson makes his way through a few green-skinned wild women, of the same tribe he last, er, mated with back in…well, I think it was the ones way back in #3: The Last American

It's curious that Syvertsen often refers to earlier volumes in American Dream Machine, more so than in any past installment; we are reminded of how long ago certain events were. But then he goes and makes the rest of the novel completely unrelated from the series itself. Anyway, I realized toward the end of the book that Syvertsen was indulging in this reminiscence because he must have known the end was near, as by the end of the book you know we’re headed for a series resolution. However I’m getting ahead of myself. As mentioned instead of any series continuity, we instead get a bonkers plot that rips off Total Recall to a certain extent…which must’ve been quite a trick given that the movie hadn’t come out yet when Syvertsen was writing his manuscript. Or maybe it was the Total Recall novelization, published in hardcover in 1989, that inspired him. Or maybe it was just a coincidence. Or maybe it was just the original Philip K. Dick story. 

So Rockson gets in the Dream Machine, which looks like a big metal coffin, and sure enough as soon as he’s under none other than Zhabnov and his forces storm in – completely coincidentally! – and they take everyone prisoner. And when Zhabnov discovers Rockson in this machine, he has the Techo-survivors turn the dream into a nightmare. For the next hundred-plus pages we’ll be in this nightmare world, which is where the similarity to previous volume American Nightmare comes in…just as with that one, this one too will be a “nightmare” with no bearing on the main plot of the series, with even Rockson himself a completely different character. 

That’s because he’s now “Niles Rockson,” a wealthy playboy living in a penthouse in NYC in the pre-nuke 1980s, enjoying a romantic time with hotstuff blonde “Kimetta.” None other than the dream version of Kim Langford, with the curious tidbit that, despite having been plain ignored for the past several volumes, Kim is now presented as Rock’s soul mate, the love of his life. Well anyway when the nightmare begins…Kim suddenly becomes a mean-looking tough chick (still hot though, we’re informed – with, uh, big boobs despite her small stature!), and the action has been changed to…Venus

Suddenly Kimetta is angry at Rockson, meaning the dream has changed but Rockson of course is not aware he’s in a dream; reading the novel is a very frustrating experience. And it gets dumber. Some cops come in and haul Rockson off for the crime of being a “playboy!” He’s put on a “prisoner ship” and sent off into space, headed for the artificial planet Esmerelda, which is a prison colony. Yet, despite this being a nightmare, Rockson – in the narrative concocted by the Techno-survivors at the behest of Zhabnov – still gets laid. A lot. Hookers are sent into his room each night, a different one each night, and every time it’s fade to black. One of the gals happens to be from Esmerelda, the planet they’re headed for, and since Rockson’s so good in bed (we’re informed), she treats him to “the Esmereldan position.” Demonstrating how juvenile the tone of Doomsday Warrior has become, Syvertsen actually describes this screwing-in-a-weird-new-position thusly: “It would be difficult to explain.” And that’s all he writes about it. 

We’re in straight-up sci-fi territory as Rockson is taken to this planet Esmerelda…where he learns he’s going to become a gladiator. And at least sticking true to the series template he’ll need to fight a bloodthirsty monster in the arena. It’s all so dumb…and, well, at least it’s dreamlike, with non-sequitur stuff like Kimetta – who now has become the daughter of the prison warden on Esmerelda! – giving Rockson a talisman that will protect him against this monster. It just goes on and on, having nothing to do with Doomsday Warrior, yet not being strong enough to retain the reader’s interest; Syvertsen’s boredeom with it all is very apparent, and this feeling extends to the reader. 

At the very least I was impressed with how Syvertsen just wings it as he goes along…given that all this is a “dream,” he’s able to change the narrative as he sees fit. But gradually Rockson starts to figure something is amiss with this world, and begins to remember “The Doomsday Warrior.” But again it’s very juvenile, with Rockson suddenly certain that if he escapes Esmerelda, he will awaken into his real reality. The finale of the dream sequence features some unexpected emotional depth, when Rockson realizes that his beloved Kimetta is “just a dream, too.” This leads to a sequence where the series gets back to its New Agey roots; The Glowers, those godlike mutants also last seen in the third volume, show up to save Rockson – who is near death from his experience. This kind of goes on for a bit, with the Glowers and Rockson’s pals using a Medicine Wheel to put Rockson’s soul back together with his body. 

Here's where it becomes clear Ryder Syvertsen has the end of the series in mind. Well, first we get more juvenile stuff where the Glowers bring out a massive ship made of ice and snow and upon it floats Rockson and team back to Century City – where the Glowers have called ahead telepathically. Rockson is given a hero’s welcome, and what’s more Rona and Kim are there waiting for him, and we’re told they’ve “settled their jealous differences” about Rockson, and have decided what to do about him – but will tell him more later. The main Glower announces that Killov is alive, and only Rockson can stop him, thus setting the stage for the next (and final) volume. 

But man…here comes the scene we’ve waited so many volumes for: that night there’s a knock at Rockson’s door, and he opens it to find both Kim and Rona there in negligees, and they laugh and push Rockson back on his bed, and the reader is promised the Doomsday Warrior three-way to end all three-ways. But friggin’ Ryder Syvertsen ends the book right there!! (I’m currently working on my own 200-page fan novelization of this sex scene.) 

As mentioned, the next volume is to be the last…but the series has been over for Syvertsen for a long time, now. That said, I might get to the last one sooner rather than later, for American Dream Machine seems to be leading directly to that next novel – meaning, the next one shouldn’t open three years after this one. 

Monday, December 18, 2023

UFO #2: Sporting Blood


UFO #2: Sporting Blood, by Robert Miall
June, 1973  Warner Books
(Original UK edition 1971)

I’ve mentioned before how crazy I am about that ‘60s/70s ultramod Spaced Out vibe, as displayed in such ‘60s sci-fi flicks as Barbarella2001: A Space Odyssey, and Journey To The Far Side Of The Sun. But in my mind the highest paragon of this ultramod “future 1960s” look would have to be Gerry and Sylvia Anderson’s UFO, which was produced for UK television in ’70 and ‘71 and used many of the costumes, sets, and props from the aforementioned Journey To The Far Side Of The Sun (which was another Andersons “Century 21” production). 

To be sure, UFO is glacially paced, overly grim, and seldom if ever makes use of its colorful ultramod trappings. It’s almost as if all the colorful stuff was from the mind of Sylvia Anderson, from the silver “space age” suits worn by the characters to the purple wigs and miniskirts of the “girls” who worked at Moonbase. But Gerry Anderson sort of flew in the face of this, delivering a “grim and gritty” vibe that was more so just dour, with an often unlikeable lead character and plots that focused too much on loss, suffering, and despair. Only late in the series’ run, when many of the cast members had been replaced due to scheduling conflicts, did the producers bring more of a “fun” vibe to the show, but the earliest episodes – three of which are novelized here – are usually too “serious” for their own good. 

Make no mistake, though: I love the show, and could watch it over and over on permanent repeat, preferablly blitzed out on cheap blended whiskey. I’ve got the original DVD release but the discs are just gathering dust; I prefer to watch the high definition remastered episodes free with ads on Prime, and have watched the series through a few times over the years. There is something wonderful about this modtastic future that never was (the series takes place in the early 1980s), and I’d rather watch UFO than Star Wars or Star Trek any day of the week. 

The show didn’t make much of an impact in the US, where it played in syndication, but there was enough support behind it that the two novelizations Robert Miall had published in the UK in 1971 were brought by Warner Books to the US. However no changes were made to the text: we still have single quotation marks for dialog and British spellings are used throughout. This was the second of the two novelizations, and it’s interesting that Miall (of whom I know nothing) plants seeds for a third novelization at the end of Sporting Blood (the title has no bearing on the plot, by the way). 

This slim, 140-page book novelizes the episodes “Computer Affair,” “The Dalotek Affair,” and “Survival.” It’s worth noting that these are not comprehensive novelizations of the episodes; Miall leaves out scenes and often rewrites stuff to fit these three unconnected episodes together. But then, UFO was an episodic series to begin with; there was only the overall plot, of secret agency SHADO and its various high-tech craft waging an undercover war against aliens – all of it occuring in the “future ‘60s” of 1981 (or thereabouts – the show, as explained below, wasn’t always faithful to its own setting). 

The important thing to note is that the main appeal of UFO, the colorful ultramod setting, is not captured here by Miall. Rather, he has focused more on the “dour” aspects of the show, rarely if ever bringing to life the ultramod futuristic settings but instead focusing on the inner turmoil of the characters. He does at least cater the book to a male readership, with the main characters being the men on the show, and thus there is a narrative focus on the appeal of the shapely female SHADO agents (who themselves of course were another huge part of the show’s appeal). But then, there is very little racy stuff in the novel, with Miall never giving in to exploitation – I mean, the dude doesn’t even use the word “breasts” when describing Moonbase commander Lt. Gay Ellis (aka actress Gabrielle Drake – sister of singer Nick Drake): 


I mean that’s some serious restraint on the author’s part, friends. But then, Miall makes clear something the TV show only hinted at: the male agents of SHADO are damn horny, particularly given that they have curvy dishes like that sashaying around them in form-fitting catsuits and miniskirts…and there’s a friggin’ rule that prevents SHADO agents from becoming romantically involved with each other! In fact this is the plot of fist storyline “Computer Affair,” but then again it’s another instance where the show couldn’t seem to make up its mind, as there’s a lot of innuendo in the show that some of these agents were getting along in more than a professional fashion. 

Robert Miall treats everything with deadly seriousness; there is no camp here, no spoofery. We’re told the “girls” at Moonbase wear purple wigs, for example, but we aren’t told why. (Presumably costume designer Sylvia Anderson said the idea was the wigs were anti-raditation or somesuch…but then this begs the question why the men on Moonbase didn’t wear purple wigs!) Also the various SHADO vehicles are seldom described, and indeed Miall pulls an interesting trick throughout in that rarely if ever does he focus on characters who are operating these vehicles. Rather, the “action” is usually relayed from the perspective of whoever is commanding the mission from afar, watching viewscreens and sweating bullets in the hope that everyone survives. Again, the focus is on the grim and the dour, with very little in the way of fun escapism. 

Back to the glacial pacing of the show: it says something about how padded the average episode of UFO was that Miall is able to novelize a full episode in about 40 pages. I’m not sure how these three specific episodes were chosen for the novelization treatment, but Miall does a fairly good job of making them all seem part of a larger storyline, save for the issue that the aforementioned Lt. Ellis disappears from the text – because the actress was only in one of these three episodes, “Computer Affair.” Her disappearance from the rest of the text is due to a cold, it’s explained to us via dialog between SHADO honcho Colonel Ed Straker and his second-in-command Alec Freeman, and thus she must be quarantined from the safe and secure Moonbase. 

Speaing of Colonel Straker, he is the “unlikeable” main character mentioned above; while Striker (as portrayed by Ed Bishop), with his “bleached” white hair, is the character most associated with UFO, he seldom featured as the protagonist in early episodes, the three novelized here being prime examples. Only late in the series run, when Alec Freeman (George Sewell) was replaced by the uber-sexy Colonel Virginia Lake (aka Wanda Ventham, who would become the mother of actor Benedict Cumberbatch), did Straker take more of a Captain Kirk-esque place in the proceedings. In the earlier episodes, like the ones novelized in Sporting Blood, he mostly stays at his desk, barking orders, pushing his underlings, and looking dour. 

Another thing I want to point out is that not only was UFO episodic, but the episodes were broadcast way out of order from how they were produced; I follow this viewing order when watching the series. But even that viewing order conflicts with this novelization, which places “The Dalotek Affair” before “Survival.” Meanwhile for both the suggested viewing order and this tie-in novel, “Computer Affair” occurs first, yet per the Pop Apostle site I linked to above, “Computer Affair” seems to take place later than most other episodes, given references in the episode to the year. At the end of “Computer Affair” a character takes up a bottle of wine, looks at the label, and remarks, “1984, what a year,” or something to that effect. Clearly this means 1984 is in the past, so it must be at least ’85 (or they just serve really cheap wine at this particular restaurant – or hell maybe wines in this “future” have expiration dates!). Meanwhile “The Dalotek Affair” is stated as taking place in 1981. 

Anyway. The first forty pages of Sporting Blood are devoted to “Computer Affair,” probably one of the slowest-paced episodes in the entire series. In this one Alec Freeman is tasked with figuring out what’s going on at Moonbase, and ultimately determines there’s a blossoming romance between busty Lt. Gay Ellis and burly Lt. Mark Bradley (Harry Baird), one of the Interceptor fighter pilots on the base. Ellis happens to be white and Bradley happens to be black, but this is not a concern – in fact it isn’t even mentioned – for SHADO. Rather, it’s that this romance could conflict with duty and cause havoc. In fact race isn’t even mentioned in the book until the final story novelized, “Survival,” where Bradley is offered the opportunity to command Moonbase and is concerned his skin color automatically prevents him from this honor – a concern just as quickly dashed as it is raised. 

It's pretty slow going. Robert Miall proves posthaste that he is more interested in the inner turmoil of his characters, particularly that of Alec Freeman, than he is in catering to a sci-fi action vibe. The majority of this opening section keeps Freeman in center stage, which makes his sudden disappearance later on in the novel a bit bumpy for the reader. Here he flies in to Moonbase, ponders how friggin’ hot all these Moonbase chicks are, and then tut-tuts the burgeoning romance between these two young people who are trapped up here on a base separated from the Earth on a mission so secret that can’t even tell their closest family members about it. When another astronaut is killed during a fight against a UFO (the entire sequence as well from Freeman’s perspective, even though he’s safe and sound on Moonbase), it’s back to Earth for some computer-assisted psychological testing of Ellis and Bradley. 

Here we get some of the shrill and unlikeable Straker, who alternately bosses Freeman around and then worries over a UFO that’s landed in the wilds of Canada. Even the ensuing “Shado mobile” action is relayed from Freeman’s perspective. But humorously, just as in the actual episode, the Ellis-Bradley romance is passed off as being okay, and indeed the two don’t even kiss or anything…nothing more than an exchange of words…and also the two characters never even appeared in an episode together again! Miall even makes their romance less of a thing than the episode did; the episode ends with an Earthbound Ellis and Bradley in a restaurant, and Bradley’s the one who makes the remark on the wine bottle that’s dated 1984. Miall cuts this scene from the novel. 

This could be because the dates don’t jibe; Miall inserts dialog in the opening of the novel that “Computer Affair” takes place in November of 1981; Lt. Ellis makes the announcement that Mark Bradley was born in November of 1952, “twenty-nine years ago,” which would go against the “1984” reference in the actual televised episode. But then, Miall himself goofs; the second story novelized here, “The Dalotek Affair,” is set in April of 1981 – the date mentioned both in the episode itself and in this novelization – even though Miall has the story taking place after “Computer Affair.” 

Speaking of which, we are sort of thrust directly into “The Dalotek Affair,” not to mention we are suddenly given a new main character: Colonel Paul Foster, virile alpha male type who really was the closest thing to the show’s action lead. Memorably portrayed by Micheal Billington (who apparently was frequently short-listed for the role of 007), Foster when we meet him is commanding Moonbase in place of Lt. Ellis, who we are informed is still Earthbound due to a cold she picked up. Of course, none of this is in the actual episode. This story is my favorite of the three here, and the episode is good as well, if for no other reason than the majority of it takes place on the ultra-groovy Moonbase. This one concerns a mining combine called Dalotek which has insisted on getting to work on the moon, unaware – as is everyone in the world – that UFOs are a constant threat up here. 

But just as with Freeman, we here are often reminded how damn horny Foster is up on Moonbase, with all these chicks! And again all the groovy décor and escapism is ignored, Miall instead focusing on the dourness and the boredom of being stuck in this isolated base on a dead world. This is the closest the book gets to risque, though; one of the Dalotek people is a sexy babe named Jane Carson, and Foster is able to start something up with her even though she’s not on Moonbase and he has to drive across the lunar surface to see her. Miall changes a bit from the episode, though; in that, we know from the start that Jane does not remember Foster due to an “amnesia pill” she’s been given, and the entire episode is a flashback on Foster’s part. Miall ignores that and shows it all as it happens, but with a darker edge – in the climax, Jane does not know she’s about to be given an amnesia pill (so as to forget about SHADO and UFOs), and Foster, about to bed Jane, feels just a little guilty about it. I mean it’s basically a UFO roofie. 

Otherwise “The Dalotek Affair” is slight on the action front, as most every episode of UFO is. Again it’s more down to the turmoil and the arguing, with Straker in “one of his moods” and ranting and raving on Earth and Foster blaming the Dalotek people for causing various SHADO crashes on the Moon. It turns out to be an alien plot, of course – and here Robert Miall cleverly ties things together with the ensuing story, “Survival.” This one also stars Foster, and also is primarily set on the groovy Moonbase; the opening of the episode is very colorful in this regard, with Foster and a pal hanging out in an ultramod rec room and getting drunk before a window blows and Foster’s pal dies via decompression. Miall has it that this pal is the replacement astronaut for the one killed in “The Computer Affair,” and also the alien who shoots out the window was dropped by the UFO that inexplicably came and went in “The Dalotek Affair.” 

Regardless, here’s the goof – when the dead astronaut is given a space funeral, it’s mentioned that the date is April, 1981. Meanwhile Miall had “Computer Affair” as occuring in November of ’81. At any rate this one’s plot is a prefigure of the ‘80s sci-fi movie Enemy Mine, concerning as it does Foster and the alien stuck together on the harsh terrain of the Moon and having to work together to survive. Before that though we have an angry Foster going Earthbound for a bit to seek out Jane Carson for a little nookie – only to be turned down cold, as she has no memory of him. (An incident which, as mentioned, occurs in the beginning of the televised “The Dalotek Affair.”) Then he goes over to his girlfriend’s place for some off-page lovin’, and here we get Miall’s one reference to the show’s groovy décor, Foster noting the “psychostyle painting” in his girlfriend’s apartment. 

Another interesting thing about “Survival” is that it was the last appearance of Harry Baird as Lt. Mark Bradley; any appearances after this were just recycled footage. What’s curious is that “Surival,” both the episode and here in the novel, features a go-nowhere subplot where Straker, thinking Foster is dead, offers Bradley the opportunity to command Moonbase. Bradley accepts…and does nothing but send out a Moon mobile that will ultimately discover Foster is still alive…and Foster will resume command of Moonbase. Bradley as Moonbase commander is never mentioned again, either in the novel or in the show, and given that Bradley wasn’t featured in any other episodes (other than recycled footage, that is!), it almost gives the indication that the dude got pissed off and quit. 

Anyway, “Survival” is also slow paced, and the Foster-alien journey across the Moon isn’t just rigorous for them; it’s boring as hell to watch, let alone read. As I say, UFO was incredibly static and probably would best be appreciated after downing a few tranquilizers. But man it looks great…though as mentioned many, many times now, the “look” of the show is the one thing Robert Miall fails to deliver. That said, he clearly intended to write another novelization at least: Sporting Blood ends with Straker and Freeman discussing their concerns about a SHADO agent named Roper (and Roper’s wife), and they also decide to send Paul Foster to the seabound SHADO vehicle Skydiver for “three months.” These are direct references to the episodes “Flight Path” and “Ordeal,” and presumably these would have been two of the stories that Miall would’ve novelized in a UFO #3

Thursday, November 2, 2023

America 2040 (America 2040 #1)


America 2040, by Evan Innes
April, 1986  Bantam Books

“I think I held onto this $3.95 Bantam paperback as proof that this was as far as it could go – as far as the spirit of our time and place could celebrate itself, shame itself, parody itself, fuck itself to death.” -- Greil Marcus 

I just knew that book packager Lyle Kenyon Engel had to have done a sci-fi series in the epic tradition of his bestselling productions Wagons West or The Kent Family Chronicles. Something with mainstream readers in mind, with the same vibe as those historical fiction novels, but placing events in the future. And yet, try as I might, I could never find any indication that Engel or his company BCI had ever produced such a series. 

Then one day recently I went on another random kick to see if he ever had – and I did what any other guy would do: I started searching “Lyle Kenyon Engel” on Google Books, with the years filtered to 1986-1989. And in this manner I hit paydirt: the America 2040 series, which began in 1986 and ran for five volumes, through 1988. Published by Bantam as paperback originals, the novels credited to Evan Innes…and, on the copyright page, the note that the series had been produced by Book Creations, Inc, with Lyle Kenyon Engel credited as “Chairman of the Board.” 

Not only is the series obscure, but I’m not sure how well it’s even known that it was an Engel production. Some years back I worked on a list of Lyle Kenyon Engel books with Justin “Paperback Fanatic” Marriott, and I don’t believe either of us were aware of America 2040. I know I wasn’t. But then, the series was in the latter era of Engel’s publications, and in fact Engel died two months after this first volume was published. It’s clear though that it was intended to be a long-running epic in the manner of the John Jakes blockbusters, even following the same “pioneer” theme as Engel’s other big ‘80s success Wagons West

A great concept…but one that was undermined by a wrong author choice. Same as Engel undermined a similar series that had a good setup the decade before with a poor choice for writer (Chopper Cop, which was initially given to Dan Streib), Engel hired a veteran sci-fi author named Hugh Zachary (real name Zach Hughes) to serve as “Evan Innes” on America 2040. Now I’m not saying Zachary’s writing is as subpar as Streib’s was on Chopper Cop, but it’s got that same pedestrian, just-the-facts tone, and the plotting is a bit of a mess. But hell, this was the start of an epic, so it’s possible Zachary was just getting his footing, not to mention working with whatever guidelines “Chairman of the Board” Engel had him work with. 

But at 344 pages, America 2040 is itself an epic, though the next three volumes would all be longer (the last one, The Star Explorer, is the shortest of the series, at 320 pages – and also the most scarce volume of the series, too). This first one does the heavy lifting of setting up the series concept and introducing some of the large cast of characters. This volume is also the only one that’s ever mentioned in the few online reviews, plus it’s the only volume I can find that received a contemporary review. Other than Greil Marcus’s humorous diatribe, linked to above, it seems that America 2040 flew under the radar, and the fact that Bantam ended it with the fifth volume would indicate the readership just wasn’t there. But then, Lyle Kenyon Engel passed away in August of 1986, the same month the second volume of the series was published, so it could also be that America 2040 suffered due to losing Engel’s guiding hand. 

Well anyway, in true “paperback epic” style America 2040 opens with a few pages previewing some of the characters we will meet in the narrative, in total bestselling potboiler style – I mean notes like that Captain Dunan Rodrick has “wide shoulders” or that the spotlighted female characters are all ready and willing. As I wrote, the series was certainly intended for a mainstream readership; soapy melodrama is more focused on than science fiction. Indeed, the world of 2040 doesn’t seem that much different from 1986: the Cold War still rages, the mainstream of America mostly comprised of conservative-leaning white people, and politicians can still speak of “American superiority” without being condemned as right-wing extremists. 

But then, one can see why Publisher’s Weekly dismissed America 2040 as a “neoconservative pulp novel” in the review mentioned above. Or as Greil Marcus so humorously put it: “You mean that the ‘spirit of America’ is more important than the EARTH ITSELF?” For this folks is the concept of the series: In 2032 Young US President Dexter Hamilton orders the construction of a massive starship which will carry a thousand pioneers to a far-off planet that seems identical to Earth, so that the spirit of America will survive the threat of nuclear war. So, to Greil Marcus’s point, the concern isn’t hummanity itself, or saving the planet: it’s the spirit of America that must survive and thrive on a new world, the thousand colonists serving, not so subtly, as the future versions of the pioneers seen in Engels’s historical blockbusters. 

Even by 1986 this must have seemed a bit out of step; I mean the spaceship is even literally painted red white and blue, whereas in the actual reality of 1986 the space race had cooled off into the international cooperation of today. But the Cold War rages harder than ever in this pseudo-future; actually, the series title is very misleading, as “2040” itself only features in a few pages of this first book! The novel actually opens in 2032, as Hamilton arrives in Moscow to meet with Soviet Premier Kolchak, who tells Hamilton in private that he is dying, will be dead in eight years, and thus Kolchak intends to blow up the planet before his death – that is, unless the entire world has gone red by then. And indeed most of the world is red, we’re informed, with communism having conquered most of the western world. (Zachary was really on point with this particular prediction!!) Hamilton balks at Kolchak’s offer to make America a satellite country of the USSR and, instead of ramping up on the increasing arms race, he greenlights a mission to a nearby star, so that at least some Americans can survive the possible armageddon and start anew. 

So the first hundred pages of America 2040 actually takes place from 2032-2040, and focus most on President Hamilton; this makes it a bit bumpy when Hamilton abruptly drops from the book on page 100 when the spaceship takes off. Even odder is that the majority of the characters in these first 100 pages will also not be seen again; the “stars” of the series are the pioneers themselves, and we don’t even meet most of them until the ship takes off on Christmas day 2040. Meaning that in a few pages we have New Year’s Day 2041…and the novel goes on to encompass a few more years. So why exactly was the series titled “America 2040?” I also found it incredibly curious that Zachary didn’t dwell at all on the selection process for these colonists; we’re informed that the selection is underway, but what the criteria was and etc is never stated. Hard to tell if this is just a miss on Zachary’s part or him trying to cater to what Lyle Kenyon Engel wanted. 

Have I mentioned yet that the spaceship itself is named “The Spirit Of America?” This is why I think Zachary was catering to Engel’s whims; the “America first” stuff isn’t layed on too thick, but it’s certainly there. In fact it’s mostly in the sequences with President Hamilton, who as mentioned carries the brunt of the first 100 pages. There’s also a subplot with Theresita Pulaski, the “first Russian woman general,” who is alternately described as “pretty” and “a big woman.” One thing that becomes clear very early on is that Hugh Zachary can’t be much bothered with describing his characters. Seldom do we get much in the way of characteristics or any other sort of descriptions for the characters, and exploitation is at a minimum – we’re told how most of the female characters are attractive, but there’s none of the “full breasts” one would expect if America 2040 had been “produced” by Lyle Kenyon Engel in the 1970s. 

In fact, the novel is for the most part PG. It really is very much with a mainstream readership in mind; I would have been 11 when this novel was published, and I’m surprised I didn’t come across it then, as I was an avid sci-fi reading geek even then and constantly scanned the science fiction shelves at the local WaldenBooks. But I only just discovered this series the other week; maybe this is indication America 2040 had poor distribution, hence the minimal awareness of it even today. Well anyway, the infrequent sex is all off-page, save for one part midway through where two characters are discovered in the midst of a secret boink; this part is also the only place, I believe, where the word “breasts” appears – but even here Zachary doesn’t dwell on the juicy details. I only bring this up so as to indicate how different America 2040 is in comparison to Engel’s earlier productions – but then, those were squarely targeted for a horny male readership. 

The setup is pretty implausible, but Zachary does his best to make it believable: that Premier Kolchak is nuts and will annihilate the Earth in eight years. One wonders why they don’t just assassinate the guy instead of building a friggin’ spaceship, and Zachary tries to work this into the subplot with Theresita…who ingratiates herself into Kolchak’s life so as to assassinate him, and eventually works her way into his bed, this being more of a soapy melodrama. And of course she falls in love with him! However, this subplot paid off differently than I expected – with the caveat that Theresita also disappears from the novel a hundred pages in, but there’s enough foreshadowing in there to indicate that she will return in a future volume. 

But from page 100 to the end we are onboard the Spirit of America as it makes its two-year voyage past Pluto, then goes into “lighstep,” which is this novel’s version of hyperspeed and is something developed by another minor character. Zachary tries to make it all scientific sounding with the explanation that a precious metal called rhenium fuels lighstep, but it’s such a precious commodity that a lot of time is invested in finding it – a subplot that brings a kid into the big cast of characters: Clay Girard, a preteen orphan who has a friggin’ dog named Jupiter, and who manages to get on board the ship – I mean one can almost see Lyle Keynon Engel just ticking off all the character types he wants to populate the novel. “I want a boy and his dog, dammit!” The only thing we’re missing for this to be a true soapy melodrama is the once-famous actress who is looking for her last big role. Maybe she’ll show up in a future volume! 

Zachary doesn’t beat us over the head with “the science” too much, though. Indeed, some of the novel comes off as stupid for a person with even passing knowledge on the subject. For one, we’re told again and again how precious rhenium is and how it must be conserved and whatnot. And yet, the spaceship is built underground in a giant factory, so as to hide the existence of the craft from spying Red eyes, and then takes off from Earth into space…I mean folks the fuel that would be destroyed getting lift for the size of this craft would be tremendous. And that’s another thing; I had a hard time picturing the spaceship. It almost sounded more like a space station, with an “outer ring” that would revolve to simulate gravity and whatnot. Of course the important thing is that it’s painted red white and blue! 

The remainder of the novel focuses on the few years of the voyage to the distant star. The first few years are dedicated to flight to Pluto, after which it’s into the hyperspace of lighstep, which itself occurs in a fraction of a moment. So for the long haul it’s more about various soapy events transpiring on the ship: we have a little adultery between a couple of married characters (leading to the sole sex scene, mentioned above), and there’s even a “crime novel” element at play when it turns out there’s a killer on board. And the chief security guy is a former New York City cop, so this lends the novel a whole different feel at times, as this guy tries to make sense out of the few clues left at the murder scenes. The killer wants everyone dead, leading to sequences like the water onboard being poisoned and the scientists working to fix it, or another part where a key wire blows and it’s almost impossible to get to. In these sequences Hugh Zachary well captures how stranded and desolate the people on board the ship are. 

Oh, and as mentioned in that Publishers Weekly review, one goofy conceit is that all contact with Earth is lost – one of the killer’s plots ends up destroying the radio that’s hooked up to Earth. So a dangling question in the novel is whether Earth is even still there; the ship takes off just as nuclear war seems imminent, and the last Captain Rodrick and crew hears from Earth is that the US is under attack. Speaking of Rodrick, he does little to make himself memorable; Zachary actually rips off his own idea here, with Rodrick being in love with the wife of his First Officer, and the lady (Amanda Miller) feeling the same for Rodrick, but it’s mostly just a lot of pining for one another – it’s another set of characters who do the actual adulterous deeds. But Zachary’s so busy he forgets his own plotting, as at the start Rodrick thinks he’s about to start something with a single young woman at his command, a lady named Jackie who also likes Rodrick – and she’s almost entirely forgotten about as the novel progresses. 

I could’ve done with more description of the ship itself, or even of the clothing the people wore on the ship (I imagined them all in retro-style jumpsuits, as befitting classic sci-fi), or even what life itself was like on board. But Zachary surprisingly doesn’t tell us much. He does throw in random stuff at the end, like a sort of AI personality called “Juke” which handles all the music on board, slipping in really, really bad jokes between songs. Speaking of which, there are also a few robot characters: there’s “the Admiral,” an android who can shoot real good and patch into the ship’s systems, and also “Cat,” a sentient sort of glob that can shape itself into various things, but usually looks like a cat, changing the colors of its body to suit its feelings. Zachary does a good job of bringing these non-human characters to life. Overall he manages to carry the plot along nicely, but I really got annoyed with his penchant for POV-hopping – that is, how we jump from the thoughts of one character into the thoughts of another character, between paragraphs, with no white space or anything to indicate the perspective transition. This always makes for a bumpy read, pulling the reader out of the narrative. 

But part of the pleasure of reading these kinds of melodramatic epics is that you can get caught up in their worlds, and that did happen for me with America 2040. I’m not saying it was the greatest sci-fi novel ever, or even a very good one, but I did find myself wanting to get back to it to see what happened next. This is what I mean when I say the focus here is more mainstream entertainment than anything deep. Yet at the same time, the novel does lack the pulp spark I’d expect from a Lyle Kenyon Engel production; the few action scenes are not only bloodless, but almost vaguely described. And I can’t say the characters really carried the book, because I got a lot of them confused – only a few really rose above the surface to make themselves memorable. 

Things do pick up once the ship comes out of lighstep and finds itself way too close to the sun in this corner of the galaxy. This is probably the most harrowing bit in the novel as Zachary again well depicts how stranded and alone these people are. This sequence also leads to some unexpected emotional depth, as a pair of characters end up losing their lives in the novel’s most memorable scene – a scene that is, granted, a little let down by Zachary’s meat-and-potatoes prose style. And also the finale’s a little goofy because it’s like Zachary can’t make up his mind what he wants the planet that’s about to be colonized look like – first it’s too big for humans to survive on (due to gravity), then “new reports” come in and it turns out the gravity’s much less than it should be, for reasons vague and uncertain. 

America 2040 comes to a close with The Spirit of America landing on a new world. A new American world, baby! Interestingly, the plot is dangled that the Russians and the Brazilians (?!) have their own spaceships, and also for reasons never explained have also discovered the top-secret lightstep process, so one expects to encounter some spacefaring Russians and Brazilians in a future book. I’ll find out soon, as I’ve already started to read the second volume of the series, The Golden World, which was published just a few months after America 2040; the month after Lyle Kenyon Engel died, in fact.

Monday, October 30, 2023

The Neural Atrocity (The DNA Cowboys #3)


The Neural Atrocity, by Mick Farren
No month stated, 1977  Mayflower Books

The DNA Cowboys “trilogy” wraps up with this third installment that begins soon after Synaptic Manhunt. In fact the two installments come off as one novel, whereas first installment The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys still seems like a book disconnected from the series. Even more so with this last one, as all the characters continue with the retconning that occurred in Synaptic Manhunt; The Minstrel Boy is a “nothings”-navigating “tracker” and prepubescent adult AA Catto is a would-be conqueror, looking to dominate the entire ruined Earth with her minions of black-armored shock troops. 

Catto is even more unhinged this time around. Mick Farren clearly intends her to be some sort of post-apocalypse Hitler, and her scenes, which all take place in the city of Quahal (which she first conquered last volume), are certainly inspired by Hitler in the bunker in the final days of the war. Catto becomes increasingly insane as the novel progresses, her only ally Nancy, the pearl-skinned hooker who joined up with Catto last volume. The two enjoy more lesbian shenanigans, but Nancy finds herself more and more the victim of Catto’s frequent tantrums. 

Speaking of which, Farren continues pushing buttons: The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys featured a random part where Reave, one of the titular “DNA Cowboys” (though the phrase has still not appeared in the books themselves), had sex with some albino dude. Well late in The Neural Atrocity, the Minstrel Boy and Billy Oblivion are approached by monks who claim to be there to serve their every need (male monks, just to confirm), and the Minstrel Boy puts them to the test by having one of them give him a blowjob! 

One new thing Mick Farren introduces here is that Catto has developed a penchant for having Stuff Central (ie the vast computer that serves up whatever a person orders) create clones of previous celebrities, and Catto will have her sadistic way with them until she has them dumped in the compost bin or whatever. So there’s lots of annoying stuff where Catto will have this resplendent meal with all these clones of long-dead notables, and the one that gets the most attention is the clone of Elvis. Catto and Nancy enjoy this one the most, so there’s a bit of clone-sex and sadism at play too. 

But for the most part The Neural Atrocity is focused on war and carnage; when we meet Billy and the Minstrel Boy, they’re in a new city that is being waylaid by Catto’s shock troops. Once again they’ve hooked up with, uh, hookers, and once again Billy’s become the pimp of the one he’s with – a recurring bit from the previous book. Despite the war raging outside, Billy is more upset that the Minstrel Boy has two girls in his room, while Billy is stuck with just one. 

There’s a goofy part where Billy has sex with this hooker…but he’s had so much sex with her over the weeks (as it’s literally all she wants to do) that he’s grown bored with it. So Farren actually writes an entire scene in which Billy goes through the motions, humping dutifully away just to get it over with. Almost as if Farren were spoofing the entire “exploitative” angle of pulp – I mean there’s nothing like a fairly explicit sex scene in which the protagonist is bored – but also it ties back to the previous book, where Billy was bored being stuck with his previous hooker girlfriend. Maybe Farren’s trying to tell us that hookers are only fun if you don’t start a relationship with them… 

As ever though our heroes are kind of lame. Billy and the Minstrel Boy do little except hide and have sex with their hookers; there’s no part where they decide to wipe out their old enemy Catto. This job falls to that other loser from the previous book: Jeb Stuart Ho, the kung-fu monk who was introduced as such a badass but ultimately turned out to be a buffoon…one who didn’t even succeed in his mission to kill AA Catto, but instead went back to his temple to report his failure. This time he’s given a pep talk by his leaders and goes back out into the fray again, determined to stop Catto and her attack on the world for real this time. 

Action is given more focus this volume, but again Ho carries the brunt of it. There’s a bit of kung-fu and swordplay, and again he uses a pistol. But Farren is more focused on the atrocities carried out by Catto’s troops, and the relish Catto takes in hearing about them. But as mentioned she becomes increasingly nuts as the book proceeds, with Farren hammering the “Hitler in the bunker” stuff, complete with Catto being whacked-out on various drugs and paranoid to the point of delusions. Catto carries the brunt of the narrative; her or Jeb Stuart Ho, to the point that the supposed DNA Cowboys – Billy and the Minstrel Boy – barely appear. 

You’ll notice there’s one DNA Cowboy I’m not mentioning. SPOILER ALERT – skip to the next paragraph if you don’t want to know. But anyway, I have not mentioned Reave. This is because he was killed off in the final pages of Synaptic Manhunt. But it happened so casually, with such little exploitation, that it almost seemed as if Farren were implying that Reave was just injured and not really dead – as it happened, he was shot at while escaping with some others, and fell down, but he was off in the distance and it’s possible he could’ve just been hurt; even Billy seemed unsure. Well, Reave isn’t even mentioned in The Neural Atrocity, which would indicate he’s well and truly dead…except for the fact that he seems to appear in The Last Stand Of The DNA Cowboys, the fourth volume of this, uh, “trilogy.” 

Well, that’s it for the spoilers, but I’ll also hint that the finale of this one wasn’t very satisfactory. I kept hoping for some comeuppance for a certain increasingly-annoying character, but it didn’t happen, and Jeb Stuart Ho proved himself as buffoonish as ever. Worse yet, Billy and the Minstrel Boy spend the last quarter of the novel just trying to escape the apocalyptic events (Stuff Central being shut down, the vanishing of certain towns, etc),  So the two of them basically disappear for long stretches. 

So then, the DNA Cowboys Trilogy comes to a vague and surreal finale, with Billy and the Minstrel Boy going through the nothings to some new town, with no idea what to do. This is how Mick Farren left the characters for several years…until he decided for whatever reason to revisit them in 1989’s The Last Stand Of The DNA Cowboys. Curiously, this one was initially a paperback original in the US, even though the original books had never been published here. I have that one as well, and will read it anon – it’s longer than the original three volumes, and a glance at its contents would indicate it’s more of a “real” novel, at least when compared to the surreal escapades of the original books.

Monday, October 23, 2023

Slaughter Realms: The Post-Nuke Pulp Spoof That Never Was

 

Slaughter Realms: The Post-Nuke Pulp Spoof That Never Was 

Back in the early days of the blog I came across a website dedicated to “Slaughter Realms,” which was purported to be “a seminal pulp series during the heyday of post-apocalyptic fiction,” one that was “almost forgotten now.” Clearly a spoof of Gold Eagle’s Death Lands (which I so dislike I’ve never reviewed a single volume of it in the 13 years of this blog), Slaughter Realms was a facetious spoof of the pulp-fiction factory…courtesy a former Gold Eagle/Death Lands writer: Alan Philipson, whose work I mainly know from Gold Eagle series SOBs

The Slaughter Realms website was centered around a “lost” final manuscript for Slaughter Realms, written by the longest-running author on the series: Daniel Desipio. The schtick was that “newly-discovered” chapters would be published each site update, but only five chapters (plus a Prologue) were ever published. 

It was an interesting attempt on Philipson’s part, both satire and tribue to the genre that he’d worked in for decades. The series setup was incredibly busy, more fantasy than the post-nuke pulp one might expect, featuring “Martian Time King” villains, Runic weapons, an “Iroquois Ninja Princess” protagonist, and taking place in the future. The humorous background “history” for the series has it that Slaughter Realms was the work of “eight anoymous English Lit majors – hyper-caffeinated, half-starved, sans sleep for 36 hours and locked in a windowless, basement conference room,” who wrote the series “in return for five ‘Meat Lovers’ pizzas with double cheese, a six-pack of Olde English forties, and their promised eventual freedom.” 

In fact, I got more enjoyment out of this spoofy metatextual background than the “lost chapters” themselves – I never actually read them, and indeed forgot about the entire Slaughter Realms enterprise. (Fortunately, though, I saved the website to my Chrome favorites.) As I recall, there was also a forum on the site, and I remember going on there and seeing comments from readers, so hopefully some of you out there remember Slaughter Realms and we can get some kind of closure on what happened to it. 

It’s clear though that Alan Philipson shut it down some years ago – my assumption is he wasn’t making any money off it or he just lost interest. The site appears to have last been updated with a new chapter in 2009, and then was taken offline in 2013. The site is gone, but hey – that’s why god invented the Wayback Machine. Luckily I still had the old URL address! 

So, here is the website as it was last captured, where you can read the various background sections and the five completed chapters: 


On a bummer note, you can only read the first page of those five chapters…due to how Philipson created the site, the chapters are pop-ups, and the WayBack Machine is only showing the first page of each. And even worse the “plain text” link for the complete five chapters does not work in any of the site captures the WayBack Machine made of the website. Did anyone out there save the Prologue and five chapters as a text file? If so, please let us know! But it is kind of ironic, isn’t it – a pseudo “lost” novel has now really been lost. 

As I mentioned here before, Alan Philipson’s real name is Mark Mandell. He’s published men’s adventure novels under both names, but the About Alan Philipson page on the old Slaughter Realms site actually provided a very subtle clue that “Alan Philipson” was really Mark Mandell. There we read that Philipson “was waylaid by rock and roll…during his university years,” and “a song of his was released on a compilation CD set Love Is The Song We Sing by Rhino Records.” 

Off to Discogs.com I went to research this release – and there found “Mark Mandell” credited for lead vocals and rhythm guitar (as well as for writing the song) as a member of the group Notes From The Underground, on the 1968 track “Why Did You Put Me On:” 


Pretty cool – who would’ve thought this guy would go on to write violent action novels in the ‘80s??

Anyway, let me know what you all think of Slaughter Realms, and if anyone out there remembers it, or has the published chapters to share…and also if Mr. Alan Philipson is out there and would like to comment, that would be awesome, too! Maybe he could consider finishing the project and putting it out there for all to enjoy – I’m sure there are some modern pulp publishers that would be happy to talk to him about it!

Thursday, October 19, 2023

Synaptic Manhunt (The DNA Cowboys #2)


Synaptic Manhunt, by Mick Farren
No month stated, 1976  Mayflower Books

The DNA Cowboys “trilogy” continues with this second installment that was supposedly written right after the first. But if I didn’t know any better I would’ve assumed that Synaptic Manhunt was written at some much later date, as it introduces new characters to the series and changes previously-established characters to fit the whims of the new plot. Whereas The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys flitted from one surreal adventure to the next, this one follows more of a standard plot with actual repercussions for the characters. It’s almost like the previous book was a warm up and Synaptic Manhunt is the actual start of The DNA Cowboys

The biggest change is that we suddenly have a new protagonist: Jeb Stuart Ho, a kung-fu monk who lives in a monastery and is sent out on his first mission as an “executive,” his goal to assassinate someone who threatens the entire world. And who is this global threat? None other than AA Catto, the self-involved socialite woman in the body of a 12-year-old girl. Whereas The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys merely had it that Catto was a narcissitic and depraved wanton, the sudden revisionism now has it that she’s like a female Hitler or somesuch, one with delusions of grandeur and dominance, and it’s only a matter of time before she puts together an army and tries to take over the world. 

So it’s Jeb Stuart Ho’s job to keep this from happening – and once again, it’s “Jeb Stuart Ho” every single time this guy is mentioned in the narrative, same as it’s “AA Catto” every single time Catto is mentioned. Not sure why Mick Farren has this strange authorial quirk, but it’s annoying. Ho (as I’ll refer to him!) is clearly inspired by David Carradine in the contemporary popular culture hit Kung-Fu, but Farren doesn’t spend as much time on his background or training or whatnot. Instead, Ho gears up in an armored leather suit, grabs his sword, nunchucks, and pistol (I love it that “executives” don’t relegate themselves solely to bladed weaponry) and heads out into the nothings to track down and kill AA Catto – who meanwhile has moved into a new city, where she’s again looking for the latest kick. No mention is made of her brother or the other recurring characters in the Catto sections of the previous book, again giving the impression that Synaptic Manhunt is from a different series entirely. 

On that same note, whereas The Minstrel Boy was an aloof, sometimes inexplicable presence in that previous book, here Farren has turned him into one of the main characters. Not only that, but he’s suddenly gained superpowers; we learn here that he’s a “searcher,” able to divine his way through the “nothings.” Finally Mick Farren bothers explaining the surreal fabric of this world. Apparently it’s some centuries(?) after things fell apart due to some catastrophe, and now locations are separated from one another by the dizzying non-space of the “nothings,” and the Minstrel Boy is one of the very few who can actually find his way through the nothingness. 

This, then, explains how he was able to constantly show up in various places in The Quest Of the DNA Cowboys, at least sort of. Here he’s drafted by Jeb Stuart Ho to find the city AA Catto is now in – the book is so disconnected from the previous one that Catto isn’t even in the same place anymore, but has abruptly moved to a new place called Lutz, where she’s again on the endless hunt for depravity. Another thing that Farren adds to the books, which is quite prescient, is that credit cards are very important; it’s a cashless society, and the Minstrel Boy will only take the job if Jeb Stuart Ho, who is financed by his wealthy temple, agrees to allow the Minstrel Boy to withdraw whatever amount he wishes upon completion of the job. 

A funny thing about the novel is the subtext, early on, that Billy and Reave, the ostensible heroes of the previous book, are both ensnared by women at the start of Synaptic Manhunt. Reave has become the literal plaything of AA Catto, who controls Reave with a collar he wears around his neck and can’t remove; Catto has a ring that allows her to send flashes of pain through the collar, the level of pain depending on how angry she is. Meanwhile Billy, who split off from Reave at the end of the previous book, happens to be in the same city, but has become “Billy the Pimp” because he oversees the business affairs of his girlfriend, a hooker named Darlene. Even though he’s not in a pain-collar like Reave, Billy is still at the beck and call of his woman; one could almost see this as Farren’s subtle message that young men should stay focused on their quest for fun and thrills and not get tied down with one single woman, as nothing but pain and misery will result. 

This setup doesn’t last too long, though; an interesting thing here is that characters who were previously friends are set against each other. AA Catto, learning that a temple assassin has a contract on her, hires a group of local toughs – including Billy – to serve as her security. And meanwhile the Minstrel Boy is working for the man who wants to kill Catto. However Farren doesn’t make much out of his three heroes reuniting; indeed, Billy and Reave reunite off-page, and there’s no camaraderie between the two, let alone with the Minstrel Boy when he shows up. For the most part the Minstrel Boy is here reduced to being Ho’s sidekick, and worse yet there’s a part later on where the Minstrel Boy is drugged so that he has laser-focus and can doggedly track down one particular person in the nothings – a dangerous drug that could potentially kill him, but also turns him into a veritable zombie while it’s in effect. 

Another new character shows up, another hooker: Lame Nancy (later just “Nancy”), an acquaintance of Billy’s hooker girlfriend, but one with more of a fondness for women. She’s “all white,” with crewcut white hair and “pearl” skin, all of it set off by the black brace she wears on her withered leg. I’ve now finished the trilogy and Nancy turns out to be a main character, which is funny because when she’s first introduced you figure she’s just going to be another one-off character in the sprawl of the narrative. Eventually she hooks up with AA Catto and becomes her closest confidant and bedmate; Farren is sure to turn in a few sapphic trysts between the two, but once again the novel is not very explicit, at least not when compared to some of the other stuff I’ve reviewed here. 

Action is sporadic and it too isn’t very exploitative. Another funny thing is that Jeb Stuart Ho is introduced as this total badass, but he too turns out to be the typical Mick Farren loser protagonist, bumbling through his adventures and being reprimanded by the people he encounters, in particular The Wanderer, an old man who is a fellow “searcher” like the Minstrel Boy. The picaresque vibe of The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys is for the most part gone this time, as Farren really focuses on the “manhunt” for AA Catto, including such memorable scenes as Catto commandeering an airship in her escape from Lutz. 

The final quarter of the book takes place in Quahal, a place where all “advanced” technology is forbidden, destroyed by floating robot-things that show up, confiscate anything high-tech, and incinerate it. That said, they seem to leave guns alone, deus ex machina be damned. Here Farren indulges in what appears to be a sudden decision to write a fantasy novel, as Quahal is run by armored knights on horseback, and AA Catto challenges their queen to rule the place. After which she has her own army and is finally free to conquer the world, something which she’s apparently wanted to do for a long time, though you never would’ve gotten that idea from the previous book. 

Another new element this time out is Stuff Central, which reminded me for all the world of the Acme mail order stuff in old Looney Tunes cartoons. Basically it’s a computer that spits out whatever you request from it, and ultimately Catto starts putting together her own made-to-order army from Stuff Central, as well as a few Jeb Stuart Ho replicas to confound the actual Ho. It’s all very busy but still has that reserved, almost disconnected vibe of the previous book, to the extent that nothing packs much impact. Even when a major character is killed off in the final pages of the book, the death doesn’t even register…you just keep thinking he’ll show up again later (though having read the last book in the trilogy I can report that he does not!). 

While I mostly enjoyed The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys, I didn’t much care for Synaptic Manhunt. The storyline with AA Catto suddenly becoming a would-be Alexander the Great just didn’t work for me, and I found new guy Jeb Stuart Ho more of a buffoon than the badass Mick Farren intended him to be. I mean he asks way too many dumb questions to be a badass action hero. Given that at this point Farren has decided he is indeed writing a trilogy (we’ll overlook that he published a fourth installment several years later…but I’ll read that one eventually too), this means that Synaptic Manhunt does not come to a close – the events are continued in The Neural Atrocity, which I’ll be reviewing next.

Thursday, October 12, 2023

The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys (The DNA Cowboys #1)


The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys, by Mick Farren
No month stated, 1976  Mayflower Books

Two years after he published the greatest rock novel of all time (or at least of the many I’ve read), Mick Farren turned out The DNA Cowboys Trilogy, which was only published in the UK…and which wasn’t really a trilogy, as in 1989 he published a fourth installment (which to make things even more confusing was initially published in the US!). Apparently Farren wrote the “trilogy” all at once, so I read the three books in sequence – meaning this week and next will be dedicated to DNA Cowboys reviews! 

At just a little over 200 pages, The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys isn’t so much a piece of world-building as it is a fast-moving adventure yarn with a definite surreal vibe. The reader must do the heavy lifting on figuring out what is going on, or more importantly why it is going on, as Mick Farren clearly was under the influence of various drugs while writing the book – and no doubt would proudly proclaim as much. So it’s definitely psychedelic sci-fi, only not “sci-fi” in the sense that there’s space exploration or alien worlds or the like. It’s all grounded on Earth…though a seriously fragmented and strange Earth, possibly centuries after some apocalyptic event. 

Another funny thing is that there’s neither a “quest” nor any “DNA Cowboys” in the book! At no point do the two main characters, Billy Oblvion and Reave, refer to themselves as “DNA Cowboys” (and nor does the narrative refer to them as such), and they don’t go on a “quest” so much as they just wander aimlessly around the wastelands of this strange world. In fact I really started to wonder where Farren even came up with the “DNA Cowboys” tag…I’m assuming he got the title in some narcotic flash and just ran with it, but it turns out to be a little misleading for the reader. About the most we get in this regard is when Billy and Reave arm themselves with replica Old West revolvers at the start of the book…but then nothing more is made out of this in the ensuing narrative. 

Farren throws us right in with little setup: we meet (the mostly undescribed) Billy and Reave just as they’ve decided to leave the small town of Pleasant Gap and to go see the rest of the world…the first residents of Pleasant Gap to do such a thing ever. The two are presumably young, but then Mick Farren’s not an author who is much for describing his characters – indeed, we don’t learn the age of one main character until late in the novel, which renders all the preceding material with this character even more shocking in retrospect. Billy, with his fringe of black hair, is ostensibly Mick Farren’s stand in. Reave, described as being built like a “farmer” is the less cerebral of the two…not that Billy is very cerebral. If there’s any subtext to The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys it’s that young men are pretty clueless and just wander aimlessly through life as they look for the next kick. 

And that’s really all that makes these two leave Pleasant Gap. I identified with this early part of the book, growing up as I did in a similar small town that seemed to be cut off from the rest of the world – to make it even more coincidental, there was a place called Short Gap near where I grew up. But Pleasant Gap is truly cut off from the world. In order to leave the place Billy and Reave must get portable “stasis generators,” little gizmos they apparently strap on (again, details are minimal) and which literally create matter in the pocket of “nothings” that separate all the communities in this future ravaged Earth. And it is certainly Earth, with occasional references to 20th Century pop culture and the like. People drink tea and whiskey, everyone speaks English, etc. 

It's just all so surreal and vague that it’s hard to identify with anything, and ultimately there’s such a disconnected air to it all that The Quest Of The DNA Cowboys lacks much impact. It doesn’t help that our “heroes” are kind of losers, bumbling from one misadventure to the next. They gear up and leave Pleasant Gap, and the reader is prepared for an epic adventure. Instead, the two find themselves in a truckstop, being bullied by truckers who don’t like the looks of them. Here is the first appearance of what I guess would be considered another “DNA Cowboy:” The Minstrel Boy, a sort of wandering musician with a Bob Dylan-esque mop of black hair and a silver guitar strapped around his back. While The Minstrel Boy will becoming more of a figure in the next two volumes (I’ve already read the second one), here he is more of an aloof presence, more of a deus ex machina that Mick Farren employs throughout the damn book to get Billy and Reave out of their various jams. 

Meanwhile the narrative frequently veers off into two subplots, only one of which will ultimately merge with Billy and Reave’s narrative. The subplot that doesn’t ever meet up with the main plot concerns what appears to be a female deity, presumably the triune figure appearing on the cover. These sequences are annoying at best, written all in ugly italics, and seem more stream-of-conscious than anything. Farren refers to this figure as “she/they,” as if he’s attended his “pronouns training” decades early. The other subplot that does impact the overall storyline concerns one AA Catto, a promiscuous babe who lives in a drug-fueled pleasure dome; her sections really reminded me of The World Inside, given that she lives in what appears to be an entire community that’s indoors. 

Oh, and “AA Catto;” Farren has an annoying tendency to refer to his characters by their full names. Constantly. So every time “AA Catto” does or says something, it’s “AA Catto” we get in the narrative. (Curiously though, Billy Oblivion is just “Billy.”) By far I enjoyed the parts with Catto the best; whereas Billy and Reave’s adventures take them through downtrodden slums for the most part, Catto lives in the high-tech pleasuredome drug paradise that I demand in my ‘70s sci-fi. Farren really puts his psychedelic imagination to work here, with such notable drugs as one that makes flesh transparent – and the woman who has done this to herself can only imagine how interesting it will be for the man who gets to sleep with her. Decadence is the order of the day in AA Catto’s sections, and given that she’s a highborn who lives only for indulgence she almost seems to have walked out of a toga trash novel. 

In comparison, Billy and Reave’s adventures seem threadbare. Things get off to a bumpy start when they’re almost immediately drafted into an army for crying out loud, complete with boot camp and the like, and I was afraid for a bit that Farren wasn’t writing the book I wanted. Luckily though this “war” stuff is eventually dispensed with and we’re back to various random travels with the two – with the Minstrel Boy constantly showing up, as if via magic, to save them. But as mentioned he is a very aloof presence; there are times where Farren doesn’t bother to explain how the Minstrel Boy has even found Billy and Reave, and also there’s more unexplained stuff besides. Like for example one part late in the book has the trio on a raft, and a big hole in the lake crashes them, and Billy and Reave make it to shore. A few pages later they’re reunited with the Minstrel Boy, who again looks different (his clothing and hairstyle changes constantly, and at one point I was certain Farren was referencing glam-era Lou Reed). But the Minstrel Boy claims that the raft scenario was “a whole long time ago,” even though to Billy and Reave it was just “a few days ago.” So does the Minstrel Boy travel in time, or did Billy and Reave themselves jump unwittingly through time? Farren is not at all concerned with letting us know. 

Action is sporadic, and when it happens it isn’t much exploited. For that matter, neither is the sex. There’s a lot of talk of sex, but the book itself isn’t overly explicit. It’s certainly kinky, though. Like early on Billy hooks up with a blue-skinned babe (Farren implies she might be an alien – but again he doesn’t give any details), and she has this electric-shock thing she jolts Billy with during the act. But mostly it’s AA Catto who handles the brunt of the book’s sleaze – despite which it’s her brother she’s sleeping with. Oh, and Farren pulls one of the craziest reveals ever. We spend the entire novel cutting frequently over to AA Catto, where we are told of how sexy she is, and how she’s slept with this or that person, or whatever. Then only in the very final pages does Farren drop the bomb that AA Catto…is only twelve years old! As mentioned I’ve already read the second installment, Synaptic Manhunt, which reveals that Catto’s really an adult, but one who has used “age retardation” to keep herself pre-pubescent. Still…this definitely lends the entire preceding events an “ick” factor. 

Farren enjoys pushing buttons throughout; there’s a random part where Billy finds Reave in bed with an albino dude named “The Medicine” who randomly enough sports a pair of breasts. But our heroes are not judgmental at all, and Billy basically laughs off Reave’s attempts at an explanation. Otherwise our heroes don’t do much to make themselves memorable. They’re essentially on a quest to just keep moving, even when they’ve found happiness: one of the best sections has them in a society that seems to be a commentary on the ‘60s movement. Here the eternally young do nothing but take drugs and listen to endless music; for once the Minstrel Boy whips out his guitar and plays with the house band (I couldn’t help but imagine the Grateful Dead, what with how Farren described the scene). But while Billy wants to stay, Reave and Minstrel Boy insist he leave, to “keep moving.” 

This constant hopping around means there’s no unifying thread to the narrative, and the finale comes upon us without much warning. Billy and Reave end up in the community of AA Catto, and the book features the coldest of endings – Catto makes Reave her personal plaything, and Billy takes off for more adventures. But as mentioned Farren wrote all this at once, so it isn’t really an end at all: the story continues with Synaptic Manhunt, which I’ll be reviewing next.

Monday, October 9, 2023

End Of The Line (The Demu Trilogy #3)


The Demu Trilogy, by F.M. Busby
March, 1980  Pocket Books

The Demu Trilogy wraps up with this final installment, which was only published in this Pocket Books anthology. The book was published seven years after Cage A Man, and whereas originally I wondered if F.M. Busby wrote this trilogy all at once, now I’d say it’s pretty clear that he did not. Indeed, it would seem that he struggled greatly with making this a trilogy in the first place. 

As it turns out, The Proud Enemy would have made for a fine ending for the story that began in Cage A Man. And indeed in many ways it was the ending of the trilogy, as End Of The Line has jack shit to do with the previous two books. Basically it’s a one-off that Busby has shoehorned into the Demu storyline. Except for the fact that there are no Demu in the book…except for the final few pages. Otherwise the only recurring character here is hero Barton, who has become more gabby and emotional as the series has gone on. 

I mean, Barton is the only recurring main character. There’s still Lumila, the alien gal Barton fell in love with back in Cage A Man. She came on strong (so to speak) in that first volume, throwing herself on Barton moments after meeting him in their communal Demu cell…then she disappeared from the narrative, and when she returned she had been Demu-ized. Then the rest of the book was focused on making her look human again, with a nigh-endless subplot on her plastic surgery. 

This is stuff that only continued in The Proud Enemy, which went into another nigh-endless subplot about Limila getting yet more plastic surgery, this time on her homeworld Tilara, to make her look like her true self – ie, the low-hanging breasts (much is made of these, btw), the double rows of teeth, the extra fingers and toes. Like I said before, she sounds real lovely. Well anyway, now that Limila’s plastic surgery has finally been completed in this final volume…Busby pretty much just brushes her under the narrative carpet! She exits in End Of The Line mostly to just be a sounding board for Barton, or to give him advice he doesn’t heed. 

But then, F.M. Busby doesn’t heed his own advice as author. So the novel opens moments after The Proud Enemy; Barton is lifting off the Demu homeworld in his spaceship, having successfully ended the war with the Demu without really even firing a shot – instead, it was more of a blackmail thing, in that he shamed the Demu with the revelation that all their technology was taken from an earlier, more advanced race. So Barton is flying off, when he’s hailed by a new group of ships from the Earth, and they’re offering to escort him. Only, thanks to a call from a surprise return character who was last seen in Cage A Man, Barton learns that these new Earth ships are really out to get him, and Barton’s in trouble with the military elite. 

It's all backlash from yet another subplot in the previous book: Barton as we’ll recall had a fight with a lowlife scum named ap Fenn, who later met a grisly fate at the hands (or should I say claws) of an incensed Tilaran woman. Now ap Fenn’s dad, an admiral or somesuch in the space force, is here to interrogate Barton and hold him accountable for his kid’s fate. Plus ap Fenn and crew are all in nifty new spaceships that are much faster and more powerful than Barton’s; Busby is never too clear how much time has passed back on Earth since Barton and crew left on their intersteller voyage at the end of Cage A Man

Here's where Barton doesn’t heed Limila’s advice – which would’ve made for a better novel than what we get. Limila, who has just revealed she’s 80 in Earth years and has a grown child who lives with her own family on some other planet, says that they have just enough fuel on their ship to ditch ap Fenn and get to her daughter’s planet, where they can hide. But Barton doesn’t listen to her. Oh and I forgot to mention, but we learn here too that Limila is pregnant. Tilaran biology allows her to only become pregnant when she wants to, and since she wants a kid with Barton she is – but this is another subplot that is abruptly canceled, somewhat suprisingly. More is made out of Limila’s age, which is thanks to Tilaran biological technology, and Barton gets his own “surgery” subplot in which this technology is applied to him so he too can become immortal. 

There follows some goofy stuff where Barton tries to get the better of app Fenn…by hosting the first-ever Tilaran beauty pageant. Folks I kid you not. But in the melee that follows the hoodwinkery there is some as mentioned surprising losses, but also it’s all rendered moot because it turns out all Barton needs is the deus ex machina that is the Demu “Sleep Gun,” which has all kinds of uses. Speaking of the Demu, they aren’t even in End Of The Line, at least not until the very end. So anyway, Barton’s back on his ship with Limila and crew, sort of wondering what to do…and then Busby spends thirty pages on the first-person account of some character on the Earth spacefleet, totally new to the series, talking about some troubles he’s having on his ship. 

Here's where one gets the impression End Of The Line was a story idea forced into the Demu Trilogy. Barton flies over to this new ship, where we learn of this whole new alien race, the Others, who are impregnating the human Earth women on this ship…by having them drink a glass of water with some concoction in it. The goal is for the women to breed a new race of Others, and these are highly-gifted super-smart kids with extra arms and legs and whatnot. The strangest thing here is the complacency the victim females have with becoming pregnant…even a few times over. So now the plot’s all about Barton trying to one up the highly advanced Others…actually he doesn’t so much do that as he tries to make it so that everyone is happy. 

At this point, I was ready to chuck the book. I mean it had nothing to do with anything that came before. At least Busby somewhat wraps up the actual storyline in the final pages, with a brief return of Demu boss Hishtoo and Hishtoo’s daughter Eeshta. The trilogy itself wraps up with Barton and Limila ready to search the stars together…and maybe have a kid…who knows. I still prefer my theory, presented in the previous review, that all this is just a “hallucination” of Barton, still trapped in his Demu cage. 

F.M. Busby was nothing if not prolific, so I’m sure I’ll get around to another of his sci-fi novels one of these days. But I would not give The Demu Trilogy much of a recommendation at all.